Role Reversal
by Evenlodes Friend
Summary: "He knows Lewis is not feeling well when he backs out of their usual Friday night pint." James becomes worried when Lewis doesn't return his calls one weekend. Omegaverse, Omega dynamics, explicit, daily chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **

I've been interested in reversing roles for a while, and I thought I'd turn my previous omegaverse story on its head. My omega world has very few omegas, a few alphas and betas and the rest of the population as 'normals'. Not accepted practise, I suppose, but it fits for this story.

Originally intended to be a Friday Quickfic, this one grew and grew. Thus, will be delivered in three daily chapters.

* * *

He knows Lewis is not feeling well when he backs out of their usual Friday night pint. He has been looking pale all day, acting grumpy.

'Headache, sir?' James asks him, genuinely concerned.

Lewis shrugs. 'Feeling a bit off, that's all. Might be going down with something.'

Before he sets off home, James makes his boss promise to text him and let him know how he is over the weekend, in case he needs anything. He is told not to fuss, but the real lack of venom in Lewis's admonition tells him just how bad the poor man is feeling.

By Saturday evening, James has still not heard anything, and he is almost beside himself with worry. Desperate for news, he rings Laura.

'Have you heard from him?'

'No. What's wrong?'

'He really wasn't too good yesterday. I'm thinking of going round to check on him.'

'He won't thank you for that, James.'

'I know, but I'm willing to risk his wrath to make sure he isn't collapsed on the floor with a heart attack.'

'It's probably just flu,' she soothes. 'There's a nasty virus going round.'

'Even more reason to check, then. Given his age.'

He can hear her shaking her head. 'He won't thank you for saying things like that either,' she laughed.

'He won't thank me at all,' he tells her, managing a smile at the thought of Lewis's outrage. 'But I'm willing to risk it to know he's safely curled up on the sofa with a Beechams Powders.'

'Okay, well, let me know if you need anything,' she says, and he knows she means advice on how to handle a grumpy patient.

'Thanks, I'll keep you posted.'

When he knocks on the door, there is no answer. That's when he realises how worried he really is. Because he's going to do the unthinkable, something he never would have dared to do otherwise. He's going to use the key Lewis gave him years ago to let himself in, for the first time without Lewis's express permission. The flat has always been sacrosanct in James's mind. He would never have dreamt of intruding before, but some instinct inside is telling him that the lack of response is serious. Lewis could be lying in there dying, and he can't stand out here and allow that to happen because of some territorial etiquette he's got stuck in his head. So he slips the key into the lock with shaking fingers, and pushes the door open.

The pheromones hit him like a wall. It's a choking miasma of sex so thick that he has to hang onto the door frame for a moment just to stop his legs from buckling. The he realises he's letting the olfactory red flag out, and he smartly closes it behind him. If Lewis has an omega in heat in here with him, he daren't risk the rest of the neighbourhood working that out, or they'll have a riot on their hands. Still, he has to lean back on the wall to try and clear his head for a moment before he moves on.

He calls out.

'Lewis? Sir?'

No answer. Instinct tells him someone's in here, though. He can feel himself beginning to react to the scent, breaking out into a sweat, starting to get an erection. He's praying that he can keep a grip on himself and get through this. He's never been close to an omega in heat before and he doesn't know how he'll react. His alpha status is untested, mostly dormant. On the whole, his system works like that of the normal population.

It's a puzzle, though. Lewis hasn't said he's with anybody, and never mentioned if one of his kids is omega, so James is at a loss to know who could be in here, pumping out all these sex hormones.

He calls again: 'Sir? Are you there?'

Then, from the kitchen comes a muffled groan. James is in there like a shot, but nothing in his life has prepared him for the sight that greets him.

Lewis is lying on the floor on his side, and it is clear he has been there for quite a while. He is twitching and moaning, wheezing and plucking at the buttons of his shirt, some of which are undone. His knees are drawn up and now there is no doubt where the pheromones are coming from because the poor man's trousers are soaked through, and he's lying in a pool of his own juices. His hair is soaked too, dripping with sweat.

James drops to his knees but he is too terrified to touch or help. This can't be happening. Lewis is way past the age when heats should happen, and besides, James has never heard the faintest whisper that he could be an omega in any case.

Lewis squints at him,' Oh, God, lad, help me. Help me?'

All James can think of to do is to grab a glass and fill it from the tap. He presses it to Lewis's cracked lips. Most of it spills onto the floor but some gets in.

Lewis moans, and the sound goes straight to James' groin. That's when he knows he can't deal with this himself. He can feel the desire to mate pressing up under his diaphragm and filling his cock. He's already sweating badly. The ache in his chest is becoming an outright pain. He's loved this man for too long to be objective. He is sure Lewis wouldn't want this, and he can't take advantage of his condition to fulfil his own desires, no matter how long-held. It would be the end of their friendship, their trust, the end of life has he knows it, the end of everything he holds dear and he can't, he just can't risk that. He loves Lewis too much. So there is only one thing to do, and that is to protect Lewis from himself. But he daren't leave him. He's heard how bad heats can be, and he can see that his friend is suffering dreadfully. There's only one thing to do, and that is to make him as comfortable as possible.

Lewis is a big man, and right now, also a dead weight. He's almost incapable of moving himself, and James has his work cut out to heave him off the lino. He throws Lewis's arm over his own shoulder and pretty much drags him down the corridor to the bedroom, where he manages to lay him out on the bed.

Lewis begins to thrash and moan.

'Oh, God, help me, for god's sake help me!'

James can't. He just can't. Everything, every fibre of his body is telling him to pounce on Lewis and satisfy him, but he can't.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he pants.

He forces himself back through the bedroom door and shuts it hard, then sinks to the floor and starts to cry.

Everything he has longed for for seven years is in the room at his back, and he can't reach out and take it.

Sniffing back tears, he manages to fumble out his mobile.

'Laura?'

'God, what's wrong?' She can obviously hear his tears in his voice, though he is trying to force down the sobs.

'He's in heat, Laura! He's in heat and I don't know what to do! I've locked him in the bedroom, but I can't leave him. He's in such a bad way – I found him collapsed on the floor. Tell me what to do, just tell me and I'll do it, anything.'

He gives her a rundown of Lewis's symptoms, and he can hear her voice become more serious with every one.

'Now listen to me James, listen very carefully because I'm going to ask you to do something you may find hard. I'm not asking out of anything but medical need, okay?'

'Yes.'

'I need you to go in there and mate with him.'

'What? I can't-'

'Listen to me, James. This is very important! A man his age shouldn't be experiencing a heat. His heart is being put under extreme stress. At most he'll have one or two waves left to get through, by the sound of it, but the sooner the heat can be ended the better, and there's only one way to do that. He needs to be served. Now you can sit behind that door with your precious integrity intact, and listen to him die, or you can go in there and do what needs to be done to save his life.'

'He'd never forgive me!'

'If you don't do it, he'll never have the chance!'

'Oh God. Just tell me why? Why is this happening? He shouldn't be-'

'I can't tell you that without seeing him, and even then-'

'You could come, you could give him something-'

'James, even if I could get away, you wouldn't be able to let me near him.'

'Of course I would!'

'No, you wouldn't. Trust me, I can hear it in your voice. The alpha hormones are already in your blood, you wouldn't let anybody near him, not even a beta like me. And even if I could, there's nothing synthetic that I could give him that would do as good a job as what you can do for him. You need to do this.'

'I can't,' he sobbed.

'I know you love him,' she said, her voice softening. 'I know you're scared of losing what you have together, but you'll lose it anyway if he dies. Please, James, you have to listen to me. He needs you more now than he ever has. Go to him. You don't have to bond with him. Just mate with him. That's all.'

Something in her voice calms him. He drags his palm over his face to wipe away the tears.

'Okay, what do I have to do?'

She splutters on the other end of the line. 'Come on, do I have to draw you a picture?'

'I've never done this before,' he snaps back.

'Look, he'll be open and well lubricated. It doesn't take any special technique, he'll be more than receptive. It's just like with a woman but in the other hole, okay?'

'You aren't inspiring me with confidence, doctor,' he sniffs.

'Just trust your hormones,' she says, and he can hear her smile. 'Instinct is the best teacher. You'll know what to do.'

'And you reckon he'll only need one round?'

'Two at the absolute most. He must be crawling the walls by now.'

'Pretty much.' James can hear the groans coming from the bedroom. It is an exquisite torture. 'You're sure about this?'

'I can't guarantee he'll survive if you don't. At the very least, his heart will be strained. There could be permanent damage.'

'Right,' he says, climbing reluctantly to his feet. 'Right. I'll ring you when he comes out of it.'

'Okay. Good luck.'

He presses the red button and stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down with shaking hands on the bookshelf by the door, takes a deep breath, and goes back into the bedroom.

* * *

Tomorrow, James must come to Lewis's rescue...


	2. Chapter 2

The scent has had time to build up again in the closed room, and he has to stop and lean against the wall for a moment because it makes him so dizzy.

Lewis has thrashed about in the bed so much that he has kicked most of the bedding onto the floor. He has clawed off his shirt and is scrabbling at his fly. He must be at the very height of the wave.

A strange stillness comes over James then, and he realises this is what Laura meant when she said he should trust his hormones. He feels calm and purposeful. Steadily, he pulls off his shoes and socks, and then the rest of his clothes, stripping down to his skin and leaving his things in a pile by the door. It is an odd feeling, this sense of inner power. For the first time in his life, James Hathaway feels at peace inside his own skin. Naked, flayed of all pretence, here he is, ready to fulfil the purpose for which nature intended him. His whole life suddenly seems to have focussed down to this one moment. He knows what he has to do, and he will do it. He will save the life of the man he loves. He will mate. He can almost feel the little spiral ladders of his genome spinning inside his cells, the evolutionary programming that has led to this moment. There will be no baby, but that doesn't matter. The drive is simply to mate. All else is now irrelevant.

Lewis cries out for him, smelling the change in his scent, and he slides onto the bed and takes the desperate, sweating omega in his arms.

'Oh, God, help me, help me!'

'It's alright, I'm here now,' he whispers. His voice is deep and steady. 'You don't have to suffer anymore.'

Lewis moans, but he captures those chapped lips with his own, and it is as if every dream, every fantasy he has ever cherished in the dark of the night is coming true.

Somehow, he manages to get Lewis's trousers off, fumbling fingers made clumsy with desperation, prizing off the last of the clothing that comes between them. Then their bodies surge together, and they both cry out in relief at the touch of skin.

Laura was right, too, about the instinct. When Lewis opens his thighs, wraps his legs and arms around James's skinny form, he knows what to do, and how. He lines himself up and finds he slides in easily. Inside, Lewis is wet and slick and hot, and it is the most perfect thing James has ever known. He doesn't want to hurt Lewis but he can't help thrusting hard into him, and it seems to help because Lewis is crying out and grabbing at him, urging him on. His nails sink into the muscles of James's back and buttocks, and dear God, but that's so good. He wants to lose himself in this silken, slick moment and never come out again. Lewis is writhing and arching under him, meeting every thrust of his pelvis with an answering buck, taking every inch of him and begging for more.

And then not begging, but confessing.

'God, James, I love you, I love you so much! My bonny lad, my beautiful, bonny lad!

For a moment he stills, hardly able to believe what he is hearing, and the tears fill his eyes again as Lewis opens his own eyes and fixes him with a cogniscent look, and cries out again:

'Oh, God, love, please don't stop! Fill me, love, fill me!'

And he does.

Because there isn't any doubt in his mind now that Lewis wants this, that he is conscious and capable to making a decision about his needs regardless of the hormones coursing through his veins. If he says he loves James, then it's true, and James doesn't care about anything else anymore.

Their bodies become a continuous flowing wave of movement, joined at lips and hips, undulating against one another as they surge towards the culmination. James plunders Lewis's willing mouth, presses his belly down so that he gives Lewis's tortured cock a firm stroke with every thrust, hangs onto his shoulders, runs his one free hand down Lewis's long back, over his bum and along the underside of his thigh. And then he tells him.

Tells him the truth.

'I love you. I've always loved you. I want you so much. You're so beautiful. Oh, my Robbie, my beautiful Robbie, I love you so much.'

Robbie cries out, arches his back, comes.

James feels wet heat on his belly, feels the muscles inside contract, milking him. And then he's gone.

It is the most intense orgasm of his life.

* * *

The room is still. Dust motes float in the last beam of sunlight that falls through the crack in the curtain. James lies with his head on Robbie's chest, stroking his fingers through the nest of silver hair between his nipples.

It is so peaceful, here in the arms of his lover. James feels he can use that word now, even if it's just inside his head. His lover. Robbie. He is even braving that forbidden Christian name, the one he has never dared to use.

'Robbie,' he whispers into warm skin.

'Mmmm?'

The Robbie in question has been sleeping since James helped him to the bathroom to clean up. They wiped each other's skin down reverently. James held a glass of water to Robbie's lips and felt as if he was administering communion. Then he smoothed out the sheets and helped his beloved back between them to rest. And lay beside him, marvelling at this moment of perfection that seems to have lasted a lifetime.

Robbie growls his bagman's name and in response, James trails fluttering kisses along his collar bone and nuzzles his cheek and ear.

'I love you,' he whispers.

'Quite right too,' Robbie sighs, and pulls him close for a long, languid kiss.

'How are you feeling,' James ventures, after.

Robbie shrugs. 'Not sure yet.'

'Think you'll have another wave?'

'Give it an hour and we'll see,' Robbie says, but James can tell he's thinking.

'What?'

'If I do, it might-' Suddenly he seems coy. 'Don't know if you'd want to. It's a bit sudden. Only it might be our last chance.'

'What do you mean?' James props himself up on an elbow to look down into Robbie's lined face.

'Just, this'll be my last bout. Wasn't expecting to have another heat, to be frank. This'll only be my fourth.'

'Really? I thought-'

'Yeah, well, I don't seem to conform to the standard monthly profile.'

'Tell me?'

Robbie sighs. 'Had my first when I was seventeen. Me dad found a man to help then, don't think I could have got through it otherwise. It was intense. Then I met Val. Had a couple with her, one when I was 27, another when I was 35-'

'While you were with Morse?'

'Yeah.'

'You didn't-'

'I was married, man!' He looks a bit affronted. 'Besides, me an' Val could manage when we had to. It's much easier with a man, though. Toys don't do the job as well, but we got through it. I bonded with her the first time, and it seemed to stick.'

'And nothing since then?'

He shrugs. 'Menopause. Or so I thought. Never heard of a man my age having a heat, have you?'

James shakes his head.

They lie there for a while, Robbie stroking his fingers through James's hair absently.

'I love you,' James tells him quietly.

'Do you want to, then,' Robbie asks. 'Bond, I mean? You don't have to. I know it's all a bit fast, but like I said, might be our last chance to do it properly.'

'You really want to?'

That look comes into his eyes, that soft, twinkling smile that James loves so much.

'I do,' he says. 'Means you won't have the chance to have a family, though.'

'You know I don't care about that,' James tells him. 'I never have. The only thing I want is you.'

* * *

Tomorrow, the big moment comes, but with it come unexpected ramifications…


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** This last part is a bit of a marathon. Sorry, but I couldn't find a better way of breaking it up. Lotsa sex. Don't say you weren't warned...

* * *

Robbie drops the teaspoon. He stares at his hand, which is shaking.

'Oh, God,' he gasps.

James is on his feet immediately, rushing around the table to help Robbie up. Robbie gives him a frantic look.

'You don't have to,' he tells him. 'We could just mate. Don't have to go all the way. It's not like-'

'I want to,' James says, and is amazed how calm his voice sounds, even though his stomach is churning. He wants this, though, wants Robbie so badly it hurts. 'Do you?'

Robbie swallows, hard. 'Yes.'

James puts his arms around him, tenderly. 'We've got time this time,' he tells him. 'I'll make it good for you, I promise.'

'I know you will, lad,' Robbie says, and lets his head fall forward, onto James's shoulder with a sigh. He feels the alpha hormones flooding into his blood again. Robbie's scent has turned once more, telling him he's ready to mate and James's body is responding, pumping out the chemicals that will sustain them, that will prepare the way for the act that will change both their lives. He's glad now that they had time for a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal, not that it is a perfect meal, but they are going to need the energy. Robbie has rested, eaten and drunk. His exhausted body is ready to go again, this one last time, and James is determined to make it the best of his life.

In the bedroom they peel off the bathrobes they had both donned to keep warm while they waited, and kiss slowly, tongues dancing. James runs his hands over Robbie skin, rejoicing at finally being able to touch freely. He seeks out all the places that make his lover moan and gasp, the sensitive spots on his throat, his shoulder, his side, his belly, the inside of his thigh, the arch of his foot. Robbie's skin feels damp and feverish, tastes salty and sweet. James runs his tongue down shivering flesh, worming the tip into navel and nipple, blowing softly, leaving little wet trails of pleasure along the curves of Robbie's hips. He buries his nose in the bush of dark hair at the base of Robbie's cock, now threaded with silver. Down there, his boss smells of the sea. His cock is thick, though not so long as James's, and James loves his girth, circling it with his thumb and forefinger and moaning with delight at the measure. Later, another time, he hopes to coax that sturdy flesh into his own body, feel it fill him, but that is pleasure for the future. Tonight he can take his time, gorge himself. A fat pearl of pre-come oozes from the crown and James laps at it, making Robbie squirm and pant.

'I want you,' James tells him, nosing the hot, velvety skin. 'I want you so much.'

He takes the head into his mouth and gentles it on his tongue, letting saliva fill the space around it, using his lips to slide back the foreskin. There is a rich, musky flavour to it. He tickles at the sensitive underside, feeling the twitch.

'Oh, God, Oh, God, lad, that's too much,' Robbie pants, but James isn't having any of it.

'It's alright my darling, I've got you,' he coos, stroking Robbie's silky groin. He kisses and licks after that, but is careful not to apply too much heat, because Robbie has to come at the same time as him if the bond is to work.

His own cock is starting to throb painfully.

'Want you,' Robbie groans. 'Need you.' It's as if he knows.

James spreads the older man's legs gently. There's one last thing he wants to do before this chance is over. Turns out Robbie isn't as flexible as he had hoped, and he has to turn him onto his front to reach. On hands and knees, Robbie seems horribly vulnerable. It's not a position James ever wanted to see him in, strong, proud man that he is, but there is nothing else for it if he's to be bonded properly.

James takes time to slide his hands over Robbie's back, caressing the tired muscles, stroking his buttocks.

'You're so beautiful,' he tells him, kissing every vertebrae where it rises through the skin. Robbie's still a big, strong man, older though he is, and James revels in the way his muscles flex as he moves, as he arches his back and moans softly. He takes time to ghost fingertips over the backs of Robbie's thighs, then begins to kiss the flesh of his rump, presses his nose into the muscle, loving the roughness of the hair, the resistance of it. He bites lightly, and Robbie swears and jerks. Only then does he let himself have what he's been yearning for. This one last time, the only time he'll ever taste it, he presses apart Robbie's buttocks and slides his tongue against his dripping hole, tasting the juices that will likely never come again. And God, he tastes so good.

Robbie keens and presses back, wanting to be penetrated so badly, even if it's just with that clever tongue, and James is determined not to disappoint. He laps hungrily, then holds it as hard as he can and pushes it in. Robbie cries out and shudders. Inside he is silken and sulphurous, and it's so beyond good that James knows afterwards he won't ever be able to describe even to himself in words how good it is. He pushes and delves and tastes until his jaw is aching, and his neck has almost seized up, and then he can't take it anymore, and its clear neither can Robbie, because he's begging, literally begging, to be fucked.

There's nothing else for it. With Robbie on hands and knees, James positions himself behind and takes his own cock in hand to line himself up. Robbie's hole glistens with juice and saliva, open and pink and twitching to be filled. He presses his glans against it, and it gives instantly. Then there is the long, slow slide and he's there, Robbie's arse damp and sweaty against his loins, and it is good, so bloody good that it is beyond description.

'Oh God,' James moans. 'Oh, God, you're so good, you're so perfect!'

'Please,' Robbie whimpers, and it seems all he is capable of now.

This is it. James closes his eyes to steady himself for a moment, only to find it intensifies the sensation of heat and tightness around his cock.

'Oh, fuck!' he shouts, because he can't hold back any longer, and then he is pounding into Robbie's body, and Robbie is pushing back and shouting incoherently, and there is sweat and scent and flesh and fucking and he grabs Robbie's hips and folds himself down over his back and there it is, that swollen gland in that fine, strong neck, and he sinks his teeth in, and tastes metal and knows that he has drawn blood, but it doesn't matter because Robbie is coming, almost screaming with it, bucking under him, pushing back against his thrusts, the muscles inside him suckling at James's cock, rippling around him, and then he's coming too, biting hard and growling and being milked of every last drop by his lover's eager body and there is only one thought left in his head or his body and it is this:

Mine. Mine. MINE.

* * *

The phone. The phone is ringing.

He is up and fumbling for it before he is really awake.

'Hnuh?'

'James? James, what the hell is going on?'

Oh, God. Laura. He was supposed to ring her. He glances at the time on the bedside alarm clock. It says 11.26am. Shit. His eyes are bleary. Still has his lenses in. Bugger. A groan beside him. Robbie, naked, lying in his side with his back to him, pulls the pillow over his head.

'Whoever it is, tell them to bugger off,' he growls.

'Oh, God, Laura, I'm so sorry. We just – its – I don't even know where to start.'

'I've been worried sick. You were supposed to call.'

'I know, I know. We overslept.' That seems the best way to put it.

'Tell me something I don't know. I've been banging on the door and ringing for the last twenty minutes!'

'You're outside?'

'Where else would I be, given that I'm worried sick that my two favourite policemen could be lying dead inside?'

'Oh, lord, I'm so, so sorry.' He's pulling his pants on with one hand, which isn't easy. He aches all over. Everything hurts, even his finger joints, and he doesn't even know how that's possible.

'How is he,' she asks, switching deftly to what she really wants to know.

'Like a bear with a sore head,' he says. 'Robbie, Laura wants to know how you're feeling.'

'Like Ben Nevis fell on me,' he says, muffled under the pillow.

'I think the general consensus would amount to "rough",' he tells her, trying to balance on one leg and step into his jeans while holding the phone with the other. Balance not good today. He falls over with a thump.

'Shit, shit, shit.'

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, just – hang on a mo and I'll let you in.'

He rings off and scrambles the rest of the way into his jeans, then checks to make sure there is nothing really embarrassing in the room. Not that they used condoms. God, that was stupid. He didn't have any on him, though, and he seriously doubts whether Robbie would have anything like that, given his sexual history in recent years.

Robbie.

He's calling him Robbie.

Everything suddenly hits him in one go, and he has to stop and lean against the wall until his head stops spinning. Because its all overwhelming, and for a moment he thinks he's been dreaming, or this is some horrible mistake.

But there he is, the man in the bed, and there is a flash of pale back revealing that under the duvet, he really is as naked as he looks. They really did do it then.

'Robbie, sit up, Laura's here. She'll want to check you over.'

The Inspector rumbles a few choice expletives from under his pillow.

Then there is banging on the front door, and James has to go, he has to, even though every fibre is telling him to jump back into bed and wrap himself around that beautiful, beautiful man who is now his own.

Laura's mouth forms a thin line of displeasure.

'I'm so sorry,' he says again, knowing how pathetic he sounds.

'You overslept,' she nods, coolly. 'Hardly surprising. Is he in bed?'

'Yes.'

'You look like shit,' she observes.

'Thank you. That's pretty much how I feel.'

'Not a surprise either. I'd better take a look then, if I may?' She has her medical bag with her. He rang her for medical advice last night, so she will want to examine Robbie.

''Course.'

He finds himself prickling a bit at her proprietary air, but then he realises it's the protective instincts kicking in, and that's natural. He leads her to the bedroom.

Robbie flops over onto his back and sits up with a huff when they enter. It is brutally obvious that he is still naked and unwashed. He looks exceptionally ravished and weary. A flash of lust sails through James's system and makes him blush.

What is even more obvious than Robbie's debauched condition is the brown-red mark on his neck, still crusted with dried blood. James had not expected it to look so bad, or for it to be so glaringly _there_.

'Bloody hell!' Laura almost shouts, and then looks angrily from one of them to the other, clearly working out which one to dismember first.

'Don't start, love,' Robbie says. 'I wanted him to.'

One look at Laura tells James all he needs to know about her reaction. He didn't think until this moment how selfish they've been. He never considered how she might feel about their bonding, how hurt she would be. He knows she loves Robbie in her way. He should have been more sensitive, made some effort to prepare her. Now it is too late, and the shock is very clear in her face. One look at Robbie tells him the same story. But this is between the two of them to work out, he realises through his own shame and guilt.

'I'll, er, go and leave you to do your thing then,' he says, feeling like he has fourteen elbows and knees, and closes the door behind him.

* * *

He makes himself a coffee, and takes it out onto the back step with his fags to sit in the watery morning sun and try and calm down. His hands are shaking as he lights up. Its all gone to shit. He has messed up. Again. Just like he always does. Last night was the happiest night of his life, and now its all a disaster. He'll lose the two people he cares most about in the world because he couldn't control himself and think for a minute about the ramifications of his actions. This is exactly why he's never risked being a spontaneous person. Because he always, always messes things up.

He is well through his second fag when the back door opens and Laura emerges, looking pale and a little red-eyed. She looks him over sharply, and then, quite beyond expectation, asks:

'Got any of those left?'

He hands her the packet, and when she takes one out and puts it in her mouth, he lights it up for her, cupping his hands around the flame of his lighter. She takes a deep drag and blows a long stream of smoke into the air, then glances at him guiltily out of the corner of her eye.

'Oh, don't look like that! Even a pathologist needs to do something recklessly dangerous every now and then.'

'I didn't know you smoked.'

'I don't. I have one occasionally, when under severe stress. The last time – well, I don't need to tell you.'

No, she didn't; he remembered, even though he had tried not to.

'I'm sorry. We just didn't think about the wider picture of what we were doing,' he said.

'Of course not. You were under the influence of some very powerful psycho-stimulant hormones.' She takes another long, hard drag, and turns to him, her face deadly serious.

'The question is, is this really what you want? It all happened so suddenly that you've not had time to really consider what is being asked of you. If you don't want this, there is a way to break the bond. It isn't pleasant, I have to say. Its probably one of the nastiest treatments I have ever seen, but in about 75% of cases, it works. If you have any doubts, you should consider it. I know people. I could get the therapy expedited.'

'Did he say that's what he wants?' he says, cold fear seeping into his chest.

'No, but I'm asking you. Is that what _you_ want?'

He doesn't have to stop and think. 'I want this, Laura. I want him. For life.'

'Right,' she says. 'Good. I'm glad about that.'

'Are you?'

'Of course I am! I want to see you both happy, and I'd rather not have to watch you go through a chemical separation if it can be at all avoided. I do care about you, you know.'

She takes his coffee from his hand and drinks some. They stare out at the garden, watch the dew dripping from the flowers, and the birds on the bird table.

'So, did you examine him? How is he?'

That's the question he has been most scared to ask, and the one to which he is most desperate to know the answer

'To make a long story short, exhausted, dehydrated and sore. I can't see anything worse than that, but I'll be happier once I've seen his ECG readings. You'll need to get him referred through his GP as soon as possible.'

'No permanent damage then?'

'Too early to say really, but I suspect not.' She turns to him. 'You know I am legally bound to report your bonding to the relevant authorities? Its my duty as a doctor.'

'Yes,' he nods. He has been waiting for that. Bonded couples have to be registered and regulated by law. It is ostensibly for the omegas' protection, but sometimes he wonders. 'What will happen?'

'Well, you'll get the requisite paid leave from work, of course. Time for him to make a full physical recovery, and probably for you to start house-hunting-'

'House hunting?'

'Well, you'll have to move in together. You aren't legally allowed to maintain separate residences once you've bonded, you know.'

'Yes, but I thought we could stay here.'

'Hardly. Believe me, its better to start on neutral ground. There will be enough territorial issues for you to solve without adding that one to the mix.'

He looks round the garden, sadly. 'But I like this flat.'

'You'll find somewhere just as nice, or better,' she says, and there is a note of kindness in her voice now. Maybe she's coming round.

'How are you,' he asks. 'I mean, really? This is all a bit-'

'Sudden, yes.' She finishes her cigarette and stubs it out on the step. 'Its funny. I always suspected about you two. You think you know how you are going to react in a given situation, and then when it happens, its not at all how you imagined it would feel.'

'No. I know what you mean.' And he really does. Last night being a case in point. He'd always imagined Robbie sweeping him off his feet, and in the end, it turned out to be the other way around.

'It's a shock, that's all,' she says, watching as a robin approaches the bird table, ruffling his feathers in an attempt to menace the other birds away. The blue tits seem decidedly unimpressed. 'I'll get used to it. And I really _do_ want you both to be happy.'

'Thank you.'

She sighs. 'As far as Innocent is concerned, I've told Robbie I'll go over this afternoon and clue her in. No point in her having the shock first thing on a Monday morning if we can help it.

'She's going to go spare,' he says.

'Maybe. Maybe not. She knew about Robbie's status, apparently. That's something.'

'She'll have to split us up. We can't work together after this.'

'Perhaps. She's a resourceful woman and she likes her detection rates to stay high. And you two are her best weapons in that battle. Don't underestimate her.'

She puts her hands in her trouser pockets. 'Well, I think I had better get on.'

'You sure you're okay,' he says, getting up.

'I will be.' She offers him a weak smile. 'I'll have a couple of hours to myself to adjust and think things through, and then I'll go and see Jean. And no doubt we'll get drunk and have a good whinge about the whole thing.'

'You've been such a good friend,' he says, and gives her a tentative hug. 'Thank you so much.'

She rests her hand on his cheek for a moment as she looks up into his eyes.

'Just be happy, James. That's all. Both of you.'

'We'll do our best.'

* * *

When Robbie comes out of the shower, James is standing in the kitchen, barefoot and bewildered. Somehow he has managed to get stuck between the fridge and the oven, stuck between getting out the eggs and bacon and cooking them, stuck between the past and the future. His brain feels frazzled. He can't seem to focus on anything.

'You okay?' Robbie pulls his blue bathrobe around his shoulders and pads in. His hair is wet, clinging to his scalp, his cheeks flushed a flattering pink. He smells moist and fragrant.

'Just-' And then James stops because he doesn't know what else to say.

'All a bit of a shock, isn't it,' Robbie says, and puts the kettle on. 'Why don't I make us a cuppa and you sit down.'

The alpha in James rears up. 'No, I should be doing that.'

'Don't be daft, lad. I'm perfectly capable.'

'But you are tired. I should be looking after you.'

'Sit down and be told.' Robbie uses his 'Inspector' tone of voice, and James's body instantly obeys. Like Pavlov's dog, he sits down at the kitchen table to await further instructions. Robbie silently shifts around the kitchen, his big, capable hands juggling mugs and tea bags and spoons. He has his familiar, reliable air back. There is something solid and steady about this man, James thinks. It is one of the things he has always loved about him, the sense of his being up to every situation. He realises that the occasions when he feels most distressed himself are always the ones where Robbie seems out of his depth. The times when their dynamic has got away from him, the times when they have fought, have always been times when Robbie has been at sea too. James realises now how much he relies on everything being okay if Robbie is okay. Which is undoubtedly why last night went the way it did - because Robbie was in trouble, and James didn't know how to handle it. Laura gave him the Golden Ticket there, really. How could she know she was handing him his future?

Tea made, Robbie puts the mugs on the table and sits down opposite his bagman.

'Did she offer you the cure,' he says, simply. Typical Robbie, going straight for the jugular.

'Yes.'

'What did you say?'

'I said I'd take it if it was what you wanted. It's not what I want.'

Robbie rotates his mug so that the handle is to his hand, and sips.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'Right.' Robbie sighs. 'Look, I know it all happened a bit fast, and if you need time, I'll-'

'It wasn't fast for me. It was seven years. I've wanted you for so long, you've no idea. Right from the start. And maybe we didn't have time to think through the practicalities, but whatever happens, I don't regret anything. Not one bit. Except maybe hurting Laura.'

'Yeah, that could ha' gone better,' Robbie agrees.

They both gaze into their mugs as if expecting to find the key to the future.

'I love you, y'know,' Robbie says after a while. 'Didn't expect for this to happen. Didn't expect to get this lucky twice in one lifetime, but since it has happened, I'm not looking the gift horse in the mouth.'

'Twice?' James stares at him in shock.

'You heard,' Robbie grins.

Suddenly, Robbie's words condense inside James's heart into an undeniable need.

'I think I need to take you to bed again right now,' he breathes.

Robbie grins. 'Careful, love, I can barely sit down as it is!'

'I have ways and means,' James says, standing up. 'I'm fiendishly clever in bed, you know,'

'So I'm finding out,' Robbie says, standing up too, only rather stiffly. 'The arse is out of bounds for a while, lad,' he adds, pressing his hand to the small of his back.

James prowls around the table and pulls him into his arms. 'How about I just kiss you all over for the next few hours?'

'Well, it's a tough job, but someone's got to do it,' Robbie whispers.

* * *

The End


End file.
